Their Marriage Miracle

by Sue MacKay

  And if she could fix what was wrong between her and Tom, then so much the better. Then she’d be able to get on with deciding what was the next phase in her life.

  Chapter Two

  IT FELT weird to be sitting beside Tom as he drove them to the hospital. Strangely, Fiona felt as though the intervening years apart hadn’t happened. Yet she didn’t know what to say, how to make ordinary conversation.

  During the short trip past alpine chalets lining the village streets Fiona felt her muscles tighten more with every minute she sat beside a now silent Tom. She wondered what he was thinking about. His rigid back and tense shoulders were a bit of a clue that he felt strange in this situation too. Gone were any remnants of that earlier smile.

  Perhaps small talk would lighten the atmosphere. ‘Tom—’

  ‘Fiona—’

  ‘You first.’

  ‘After you,’ Tom muttered as he turned into a wide, treelined driveway and braked.

  Her mouth fell open at her first glimpse of Tom’s hospital. Surprise rocketed through her, all thought of what she’d been about to say forgotten.

  ‘Welcome to the Specialist Children’s Hospital.’

  ‘Wow. It’s impressive. And gorgeous.’ An enormous brick dwelling dominated extensive well-groomed lawns. It was three storeys high and shaped like a square C, and ivy covered the majority of the old, darkened brick exterior.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ His tone softened, as did his taut muscles. Pride made his eyes sparkle.

  ‘I expected something new and utilitarian, but this looks like those mansions you see in English country magazines. How did you find it?’ When she’d left they’d been living in Auckland, hundreds of kilometres away in the North Island.

  ‘It belonged to the parents of a colleague. They’d lived here most of their married life, brought their family up here, but when it was time to move into a retirement village they were reluctant to sell. The idea of a place for children to come and heal excited them to the point that they negotiated a very good price with me.’

  ‘It still must have cost a fortune.’

  ‘It did.’

  It did. That was all he had to say. She recognised a stop sign when she saw one. True, it wasn’t any of her business, but her interest was well and truly piqued. Tom had created something special here—something that she hadn’t even known he’d wanted to do. Had she been so self-absorbed that she hadn’t heard him talk about his dreams? He’d become a brilliant paediatrician, and she’d supposed that was enough for him.

  ‘You’ve created something tangible, something that says This is what I do, who I am. It’s wonderful.’ Using these bricks and mortar he’d formed the basis of his future, whereas she’d led a nomadic life, moving from post to post as required. Her work had been no less important, but poles apart from his. Which said a lot about them as a couple. Had they always been destined to go in opposite directions? Odd when they both had the same goal at heart—to help people, and more particularly children.

  The look he sent her suggested she’d let her tongue get carried away. But he did answer. ‘I like stability.’

  And she’d wrecked that for him. But he’d obviously recovered enough to regain it. Tom would always live here, while she didn’t have a clue where she’d be ten weeks from now. He’d know what would be happening for the foreseeable future while all she knew was that she’d be performing plastic surgery. That could happen anywhere in the world.

  Her eyes were drawn back to the hospital. In the cold, grey dusk the building was imposing. Where had the money come from? While at med school Tom had taken any job wherever possible to pay his way, and his parents had struggled to help him as much as they could. Even after he’d qualified and paid off his student loans—which he hadn’t let her help him with—he wouldn’t have amassed the sort of money required to buy this place. Even at a discounted price.

  She said, ‘I could’ve helped financially if I’d known.’ If he’d told her.

  ‘No, Fiona, you couldn’t have. It worked better for me this way.’

  Of course Tom hadn’t wanted her help. This was his project, and her money would have taken something else away from him. She’d already made one big mistake in their lives; he wouldn’t trust her not to make another.

  ‘I think I understand.’

  ‘Do you?’

  She nodded. ‘After the years I’ve just spent living a life based entirely on my own abilities and not what my father’s wealth could buy me, I do understood what it means to achieve something on your own merits.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘You’re being harsh on yourself. No one else could make you into the surgeon you’ve become. You did that yourself.’

  ‘Thanks, but something like this is different. This is huge.’ A warm glow settled over her. Tom had given her a small compliment. She’d treasure it.

  He didn’t know that she’d learned to give so much more of herself to other people than she’d ever done before. In the process she’d found that she got back truckloads more than she could ever have believed possible, often in the most unexpected and quite beautiful ways. Like the little Pakistani girl’s parents, who’d given her the family chickens as repayment for reconstructing the child’s badly burned face. She’d cried when they’d brought in the birds, their livelihood, and she’d had to dig deep to find an acceptable reason that wouldn’t offend the parents when she’d asked them to keep the fowls. She smiled at the memory, and again focused on the building.

  ‘How long have you owned the property?’

  ‘Nearly five years.’ Tom explained, ‘Andy set up a trust and raised an unbelievably huge amount of money. Not just to buy the building, but to help keep the place running.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m still not sure how he managed it, but it was above board and that’s all that bothered me.’

  ‘Andy? As in Andrew?’ The entrepreneur of Tom’s family, Andrew had got on well with her father. Sometimes she’d wondered if her father thought she’d married the wrong brother.

  ‘He’s done extremely well for himself over the years.’

  ‘It seems you have too.’ Despite everything that had happened to Tom, it seemed he’d managed to get his life back on track. ‘I’m really glad for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Just because our marriage didn’t work out doesn’t mean I don’t want happiness for you. Or at least a life that fulfils you.’

  ‘It’s full, that’s for sure.’ Tom gazed around at the immaculate lawns with oak trees lining the perimeter.

  But not fulfilled? She wondered about that. She hoped he was happy, while at the same time the thought made her feel even more unsettled about her own future. Get over yourself. Don’t start the ‘what ifs’.

  ‘When did the hospital become operational?’ she asked. It was a bit awkward getting a conversation flowing, but she’d persevere.

  ‘My first patient walked through the front door a little over three years ago.’

  ‘It must have been exciting.’ She wished she’d been here to see it, to share that moment with Tom. Another thing lost because of her stupidity.

  ‘Incredibly so.’ His fingers drummed the steering wheel. ‘Well worth all the hard work. There were months when I didn’t believe I’d ever see the day this became a fully functioning hospital and not just a dream.’

  ‘You weren’t working?’

  ‘Full-time in the paediatric unit at Christchurch Hospital, which is about an hour and a half from here. Close enough to be harassed by builders and tradesmen, but too far to make the travelling back and forth easy.’

  ‘That sounds exhausting.’ But he’d have managed. This was a man who always focused completely on work, often to the detriment of everything else. Setting up a new facility would have just been another job to see through to the end.

  ‘Very.’

  ‘I read an article in a medical journal about the work you’re doing with children and their families coping with chronic diseases. Spending a week here with other
similarly afflicted children must have huge benefits for the kids involved. Also for their parents. Getting together with other parents to share experiences must be a tremendous help. You’re earning a superb reputation amongst your peers.’

  ‘We’re booked up solid for the next six months.’

  ‘That’s a lot of children you’re helping.’ Tenderness for him slid softly through her. Helping children was what made him tick. And, if he was anything like her since Liam’s death, saving people would have become the prime focus of his life. But he didn’t know about the long, hard years she’d spent working with people in dreadful situations. ‘I think what you’re doing is absolutely wonderful. I’m looking forward to you showing me around.’

  Tom stared at her for a long moment. What did he see? The woman she’d become? The pain in the backside she’d used to be? More importantly, would he give her a chance to explain herself? Show him how different she was these days? It suddenly became important that he got to know her again. Then he might begin to see her for the selfless woman she’d become, and not the lost and helpless creature who’d left him. Or the extravagant, spoilt girl he’d first met.

  ‘You’ll get the tour. Everyone does.’ He looked away, slid the vehicle into gear and drove forward. ‘Did you receive the case notes my secretary prepared for tomorrow’s operating schedule?’

  Back to business. She swallowed her disappointment. ‘Yes, they came through late yesterday. I’ve read them thoroughly, and I’ll be taking another look through each one later tonight after I’ve seen my patients. I’ve read enough to answer any worries they or their parents may have. I’d also like to see where I’ll be working before tomorrow, if that’s possible.’

  ‘Of course.’

  A young woman in a nurse’s uniform closed in on Tom as he stepped down from the vehicle. ‘Tom, thank goodness you’re back. Jarrod Harris fell out of a tree just after you left for the airstrip. He’s broken his arm.’

  ‘What was he doing climbing a tree?’ Even as Tom asked, he began striding towards the hospital.

  Fiona followed quickly, almost trotting to keep up as Tom’s long legs stretched out, eating up the ground in his hurry to see his patient. And get away from her?

  ‘Who’s Jarrod Harris?’ she asked.

  ‘One of a group of haemophiliac patients staying this week for mentoring, friendship and medical talks,’ Tom explained, before asking the other woman, ‘Where’s everyone?’

  ‘Kerry’s with Jarrod. The interns went into the village earlier, to pick up a prescription for one of the children at the pharmacy and then on for a coffee. I haven’t called them as I knew you’d be back any moment.’

  Tom slowed his pace enough to allow Fiona to catch up for introductions. ‘Stella, this is Fiona Sav—Fraser, the plastic surgeon.’

  Fiona saw him blink, nearly trip, when he realised he’d been about to use her married name. She hadn’t gone back to her maiden name, but of course Tom had presumed so. She stared back, trying not to succumb to the wave of anguish spreading through her, bringing an ache in the region of her heart.

  She said, ‘Actually, my name’s still Saville.’

  It had never crossed her mind to change back to Fraser. That would have been another bond between them broken. It wasn’t as though she’d ever regretted marrying Tom.

  He swallowed, then turned to the other woman staring at them both with curiosity scrunching her face. ‘Fiona is my ex-wife.’

  Stella gaped. ‘I didn’t know you were divorced.’

  ‘I’m—we’re not.’

  But they’d be getting around to it very soon, Fiona guessed by the startled look in Tom’s eyes. It made perfect sense now that they’d caught up with each other. Why did she feel so sad? Their marriage was long over. But I don’t want a divorce. Which begged the question, what did she want? Her thumb flicked her forefinger. Her heart thumped under her ribs. Definitely not.

  Tom continued, oblivious to her feelings, ‘Stella’s our head theatre nurse. If you need to know anything, ask her.’

  ‘Hello, Stella. I guess that means we’ll be working together this week.’

  ‘Yes, we will.’ The nurse glanced sideways at her, a multitude of questions racing across her face.

  Those questions brought another thought to mind. Had Tom settled down with another woman? Six years was a long time to remain single, especially for a warm, caring man like Tom. Women had always been attracted to him, so it wouldn’t have been hard for him to find someone else. Her heart squeezed tight. Of course she didn’t mind. She would be very happy for him if that was the case. Really. Her hands clenched at her sides. Really.

  ‘Jarrod’s in the recovery room.’ Stella broke through Fiona’s tumultuous thoughts.

  Tom fired questions at his nurse. ‘Any other injuries? Did he knock his head? Lose consciousness? There’ll probably be internal bleeding from landing on the ground.’

  ‘He’s got a few scratches with light bleeding and says he didn’t hit his head. He seems remarkably happy, as though he’s done nothing wrong climbing that tree.’ Stella’s lips tightened with disapproval.

  Fiona followed Tom into the theatre recovery room. A boy of about ten years lay on the bed. A light smattering of blood, which appeared to have come from a deep scratch on his hand, stained his denim jacket and jeans. A woman holding a penlight torch peered under his eyelids.

  ‘Kerry, thanks for coming in. Any major problems with our lad?’ Tom asked, reaching for an X-ray film lying on the end of the bed.

  ‘Apart from a broken arm, he’s a very lucky boy. His vitals are good, shock level low.’

  The boy grinned, before wincing as pain snagged him. ‘It wasn’t a big tree.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have been up it at all,’ Tom growled. But understanding lightened his face as he put aside the X-ray to gently palpate Jarrod’s lower left arm.

  Tom looked to Fiona. ‘Looks like our tour is on hold.’ He nodded to the woman with the penlight. ‘Kerry’s one of our anaesthetists. Kerry, this is Fiona Fraser, the plastic surgeon.’

  And he was sticking to using her maiden name. Pain stabbed her beneath the ribs as she reached for Kerry’s outstretched hand.

  ‘I’m glad we’ve caught up before we start tomorrow’s surgery.’

  Kerry’s dazzling smile made Fiona feel welcome for the first time since she’d touched down on the airstrip. The hard knot in her stomach finally eased a little. ‘So am I.’

  Stella spoke to Tom. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t stay. I’ve got to prepare for my in-laws’ wedding anniversary dinner.’

  Tom waved at her. ‘I’m sorry, I’d forgotten all about you wanting to leave early. You get going. We’ll manage here.’

  ‘I can help you with Jarrod,’ Fiona offered, watching Stella leave and thinking how different Tom’s attitude had become. He’d always used to expect his staff to put patients before everything. ‘I’ve worked with a lot of children recently,’ she added defensively.

  Tom glanced up, an assessing look in those steely eyes. Then he dipped his chin. ‘Jumping straight in? Why not? I’d appreciate it. The haemophilia might mean this is not a straightforward fracture.’

  Warmth spread through her at the thought of working with Tom again. Then Jarrod groaned, quickly dampening her mood. She queried Tom, ‘Have you got clotting factors on hand? Vitamin K?’

  ‘Plenty of those. With eight haemophiliacs here this week, we’re well prepared.’ Tom lifted his head from examining Jarrod and focused on Fiona. ‘We’ll set this fracture, clean up that cut and those scratches, then a shot of vitamin K and some clotting factor to stop the bleeding.’

  ‘Haemophilia A or B?’ she asked.

  ‘A, but I’d still like to check his notes.’

  But he knew what was in those notes, which went to show how thoroughly he worked with each patient.

  ‘Here you go.’ Kerry handed a file over to Tom. ‘Do you need me for anything else? If not I’d like to get back to the twins. We were
in the middle of baths when Stella phoned.’

  ‘Twins? How old are they?’ Fiona turned to the anaesthetist.

  ‘Three-year-old rascals.’

  ‘You must have your hands full at times.’ Fiona pushed down on a sudden spurt of longing to hold a small child. Often, especially after she’d spent time at one of the clinics where she worked, this need would overtake her, rattle her, and keep her awake at nights. But why right now, when she was with Tom for the first time in years? It wasn’t as though she would ever be having another child. And certainly not with Tom. But she had had a baby, a beautiful little boy, and here she stood beside his father, totally confused, ready to run and hide from all the emotion assailing her.

  Kerry spoke as though from far away. ‘They keep us very busy, the adorable scallywags.’

  Huh? What? Of course, the twins. Concentrate. On answering Kerry. On helping Jarrod. As if she could control her emotions that easily. But she had to. Her smile stretched her lips tight. ‘How do you manage to work as well as look after two children? Do you have a nanny?’

  ‘I only work every second week, and my sister-in-law looks after them for me those days.’

  Tom waved a hand in Kerry’s direction. ‘Get out of here while you can. And give those two bundles of trouble a hug from their godfather.’

  ‘Come and do that yourself. If they don’t see you soon they’ll think you’re a stranger next time you arrive bearing armloads of gifts. And bring Fiona with you.’

  Godfather? Tom? He’d be fantastic. He adored children, and seemed to know instinctively how to communicate with them at any age. Another familiar pain curled around her heart, stopping her from moving. Her head filled with the vision of Tom holding his dark-haired son in his arms and rocking him to sleep with infinite patience; and the old pain that she’d learned to breathe through, live through, but never to vanquish, seized her. Tom should have more children of his own. He was missing out on so much. So were those unborn babies.

  Her eyes fluttered shut as she struggled to rein in her seesawing emotions. Meeting up with Tom again was turbulent. And with past issues already battering at her in a way she hadn’t expected she felt bruised internally. She leaned into the wall for a moment, gathering her strength.